by Caro LaFever
For a moment, she strained to remember her name. There were dozens of foreign names she’d tried to memorize during these last hours as exhaustion tugged at her body and mind.
Rhea. That was the teenager’s name.
“Échei kánei óla af̱tá polý pio éf̱kolo na féroun,” the old woman murmured at her side.
“You made this whole situation much easier for her,” Rhea said. “Much easier for everyone.”
A kick of delight at the compliment went through her. “I’m glad to be here with all of you.”
She was. She truly was. The role she’d cringed away from, worried about carrying off, had somehow become real. She wanted to be with this family. She’d been surprised at how genuinely happy she’d been to hear the news of the patriarch’s survival.
The memory of the old man came back to her. He’d looked so frail and fragile. He’d survived, but there would be a long road ahead for him and his kin. She wanted to be on that road with them. Which wasn’t going to happen. The automaton had been clear. They were to leave within a day or two. A swift rip of separation probably was for the best. Yet the thought of leaving this family drove a spike of pain straight through her heart.
Nat tugged her thoughts away from the pain and tried to focus on something else. As if called by her unconscious, another memory flitted through her mind.
Of him.
Standing outside his grandfather’s hospital room in obvious agony. She could not have mistaken the signs. He might be a master at showing nothing to the world, but there’d been the way he stood, the way he held his head, the way he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Right. She was right. He’d been in agony.
About what?
She glanced up and watched as he paced over to the door and out. Without hugging any family member. Without joining in the joyful talk and laughter.
Why did Aetos Zenos have to force himself to look at his grandfather?
Because this was also clear. Her journalistic instincts had scented his fear, sensed his rigid determination to look everywhere but at the patient. And she’d known immediately what he felt when he finally forced himself to look.
Grief. Overwhelming grief.
How had she known this? She might pride herself on her skills as a journalist, yet this went much further. It was as if she was in him, in his head and stony heart. In his very black soul.
A head clearly filled with myriad emotions and thoughts that had nothing to do with making money.
A heart that clearly felt agony and fear and grief.
A soul…a soul she wanted to know.
Natalie sucked in a deep breath of instant repudiation at the thought. She was only playing a part. She was only going to be here for a few more hours. His family wasn’t hers. He wasn’t someone she wanted to know anything about. This was a complete farce and she needed to remember that fact.
The old lady’s bony arm poked her as she slumped, her head landing on Nat’s shoulder.
A bloom of pure love pulsed through her as the wiry hair brushed her jaw. No amount of rejection or remonstration her brain provided could argue with her heart.
She was in deep with this family.
But not with him. Never with him.
A sudden hush fell in the room as the golden god made his reappearance. He strode to the middle of the room and stopped. His mouth tightened. “Eínai kairós gia ólous sas na páei píso̱ sto spíti.”
The whole group went silent.
“He wants us to go home,” Rhea whispered.
His grandmother stiffened at her side.
“Where’s home?” Nat whispered back, watching as all the relatives subtly moved away from the golden god in their midst.
“Thebes. Over thirty miles away.” Rhea’s eyes welled with sudden tears. “I don’t want to be that far from pappoús.”
Aetos Zenos looked even more determined in the face of his family’s clear rejection of his suggestion. His gold-flecked brows lowered and his jaw tightened. “Den ypárchei típota perissótero pou boreíte na kánete edó̱.”
“He thinks there’s nothing more we can do here.”
Didn’t the man understand? Being close to his grandfather was doing much more than nothing. He had to realize a family needed to be together at this time to heal both emotionally and physically. Had she been wrong about her observation that he could feel emotions as strongly as any other human?
“Kai eínai anánki̱ óloi ypóloipa.” The automaton glanced at his grandmother, his dark eyes clouded with…nothing. Something?
“He says we need to rest.” Rhea’s voice wobbled. “But I can rest right here.”
So the man did have a shred of humanity in him. He was aware; his grandmother was close to collapse. However, this was not the way to go about getting her to rest. Nat knew as sure as the last bone in her body—driving this woman thirty miles away from her husband would not give her any peace.
Didn’t he understand this?
The silence expanded. To Natalie, the hush filled the room with complete and utter rejection. Rejection of the prodigal son, the god who’d strode into their midst mere hours ago to instant acclaim and acceptance.
Yet no one dared speak. No one dared challenge the god’s edict.
Except her.
“No.” She stared at his rigid, tense body and met his gaze with defiance. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The clouds in his eyes immediately split apart leaving only a dark, deadly intent. If he could launch a thunderbolt at her, he would have; she was certain. If he had a thousand ravening eagles at his beck and call, he would have commanded them to pluck every piece of her flesh from her bones.
A slight gasp came from one of the aunts.
An uncle humphed.
Apparently, his family was astonished when someone opposed the godlike Aetos Zenos.
Still, he wasn’t a god. He was a merely man.
She met his furious gaze without flinching. “No one wants to leave your grandfather.”
A streak of emotion crossed his expression. An emotion she would have labeled panic if she didn’t know better. She almost blurted out, except you, right?
His harsh words cut off the thought. “You dare—”
“Let’s discuss this in the hall.” She squeezed the old lady’s hand before standing.
Zenos’s clamped his mouth shut and his jaw tightened. Again, she had the sensation she was in him, knew his thoughts.
He’d slipped. He’d almost let his relatives know the true nature of their relationship and this was not the time to pile on another shock. He’d lost his stoic control for a moment.
She detected the instant, bitter shock at himself in the shift of his body and the flash in his eyes.
As she marched past him, past the murmuring family members, her head whirled. Instead of being the cold, calculating machine she’d first pegged him as, evidently, Aetos Zenos was nothing of the kind. She’d begun to see through the cracks of his control. She now saw the steaming, bubbling volcano of emotion pulsing right beneath his façade.
She felt him, felt the heat of his glare and the warmth of his body behind her. She felt the pulse of his anger, pounding and punching at his rigid determination to keep it contained. They walked by the nurses’ station and she noticed all their gazes pinned on the man behind her. Who ignored them as he appeared to ignore every woman in the hospital.
Except her.
A yank on her arm steered her into an empty alcove.
“You dare?” he snarled as he drew her around to confront him. His eyes were nearly black with rage, which seemed out of proportion to the occasion. “You dare to dictate to me?”
Nat sucked in a breath. A well of compassion for this man swirled inside her. He was in pain. A deep, dark weltering pain. She couldn’t decipher why this so agonizing for him. But whatever reason he had, she couldn’t let him do this to his family. They needed to be close now. For each other and for the frail old man who would need them
by his side to recover. She tried, though, she tried to leash her irritation with this man. “I dared to say it wouldn’t be right to do this.”
He let go of his tight grip on her arm with a snap as if he couldn’t bear to touch her anymore. “You have no right.”
“No, I don’t. But I’m saying it anyway.”
“They need rest.” His voice was harsh.
Yet she heard the thread of concern lining the sentence. “Nai, they do.”
His gaze narrowed and a dark lick of contempt replaced the concern. “Don’t think by catching on to a few words of the language you’re a part of the family.”
She fought the instant blush trying to stain her cheeks. The word had slipped out, not intentionally. Unconsciously. Still, this cynical man would never believe it. Any attempt to explain would be a wasted effort. She didn’t even try. “I might not be a part of the family, but I’m human—”
He stiffened as if she’d struck him.
“—and I can tell they need to be together right now.” She rushed through the sentence, wishing to soften her unintended slam. “Your grandmother isn’t going to want to be far from her husband. You must be able to see that.”
“Must I?” He relaxed against the wall, his body suddenly fluid and casual. His bitter eyes burned with unholy fire, though. “You are now in command of me, gynaíka?”
The thought of having an iota of power over this man was laughable. But Nat didn’t feel like laughing. She instinctively knew this was important. Too important for the family and for him. In some indescribable way, she understood this was a battle she needed to win. However, from her short time with Zenos, she’d figured out a full-on confrontation would be explosive and counterproductive. In fact, he’d probably relish the challenge, wouldn’t he?
She paused for a moment, studying him, trying to puzzle a way forward.
He frowned. “What? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” she said. “We should compromise.”
“Really?” The sardonic lift of one side of his mouth was not a smile. “Why should I compromise with you?”
The smile wasn’t like the grin he’d given her in the plane. It had none of the humor and grace she’d seen before. Yet it hit her with just as much impact. For some reason the line of his mouth, the slight dip of his upper lip and subtle lushness of his lower, slammed into her like a bolt of lightning.
His masculinity, his vitality. His potent sexual appeal.
She stepped back.
A dark-gold brow lifted. “Are you surrendering the fight so soon, prospoioúntai ti̱ gynaíka mou?”
“I don’t want to fight with you at all.”
Both brows rose and his mouth twisted into a sardonic smirk. “Like every woman, you want to do something else with me, don’t you?”
The sexual heat inside her died, indignation replacing it. “There’s that attitude about women again.”
“An attitude I have developed after years of experience with your sex.”
“We’re not all the same. Don’t put us all in the same box.”
“I long ago put you all in a box.” His hands fisted in his pockets. “I’d be a fool to open it and let any of you out to create hell in my life.”
She stared at him. Stared straight into his burning, brutal eyes. Instinct, not her journalistic need to know, pushed the questions out before she thought them through. “What happened to you? Who made you like this?”
“Ah, étsi. The journalist once more makes her appearance.” Ripe cynicism filled every word. “But I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you. You know too many of my secrets as it is.”
He spat the words at her as if he used them in an attempt to drive her off. Drive her away from him and his secrets. She stood her ground. “I’m not going to use any of your secrets against you. I promise.”
His laugh echoed in the hushed hospital hall. The hard, bitter sound cut into her. Her protestations were hopeless. This was fruitless, trying to reach inside him and convince him he was wrong. Wrong about women. Wrong about her.
Zenos straightened from his slouch, took his hands out of his pockets. “We’re wasting time.”
Yes. Obviously, she was. Wasting her time trying to reach the human inside him. Wasting her time trying to compromise with this enigmatic, stubborn man.
“I have a line of cars waiting for the family.” He slipped his ever-present phone from his pocket. “The limos will drive them back home in comfort. I will stay here to deal with any problems.”
“Problems like your grandfather wanting someone to hold his hand?” A deep anger solidified inside her. Anger at whoever had done this to this man, crippling him for life. Anger at him for not even trying to understand what others might feel, even though he no longer could.
At the question, he glanced back at her, his mouth tight. “I’m sure there are nurses who can provide any care needed.”
“Impersonal care?” She kept fighting him, kept struggling to penetrate the impenetrable. “From someone your grandfather doesn’t even know? You honestly believe this is better than having his own family caring for him?”
He started to walk away from her and her questions.
Okay, it couldn’t be helped. A full-on confrontation it would be.
“Stop,” she demanded.
A grunt of contempt was her only answer.
“Stop. Or I’ll tell them the truth about us.”
Chapter 9
The morning sun sparkled across the gleaming china and cutlery. It splattered its cheerful rays on the glassware and cream linen tablecloth. Beams of light played over the pile of golden pears and ruby pomegranates. The honeyed yogurt in her bowl shimmered, while her dark, bitter coffee glowed in its blue-and-white cup.
The uniformed attendant behind Natalie whisked away her empty glass and refilled it with more freshly squeezed orange juice.
The private dining room provided three attendants at all times, she’d been told when they were ushered into the suite. Whatever you want. Whenever you want, she’d been assured.
How the other half lived.
Smiling faces surrounded her. Laughter and chatter rose and dipped as hands lifted in the air. Then they fell to reach for another piece of tiropita, a cheesy Greek bread that melted in a person’s mouth, or grab another serving of the feta-and-tomato salad drenched in olive oil.
His family was not impressed. Not overawed by the surroundings.
Instead, they were simply happy and relieved. The patriarch had lived through the night. Relieved a compromise had been reached.
A compromise she’d forced.
However, the family didn’t realize this, so they were happy.
A gurgle of glee caught her attention and she glanced to her side. The shine of the sun gave a rosy tint to the chubby cheeks of the baby girl next to her. Dark eyes smiled at her while a pudgy hand slapped up and down on the ornate carved highchair the hotel’s staff had eagerly provided.
“Larisa likes you,” Rhea said in English. Everyone had agreed they should attempt to speak English for Natalie’s sake. She’d protested, but the family had shook their collective head and insisted. The teenager winked at her as she popped a grape into her mouth and the sun flashed on her braces like little prisms of starlight.
“Everyone likes Natalie.” Doris patted her baby’s head from the other side of the highchair and smiled brightly.
“What’s not to like?” One of the young male cousins ogled her with exaggerated intent and laughed when an elderly aunt batted him on his skinny arm.
“It was good of you to convince Aetos to get these hotel rooms instead of making us go back home.” Doris swept a fine linen napkin across the baby’s drooling mouth. “This is terrific. We can be comfortable and sleep well at night, but also be near pappoús.”
Hotel? She couldn’t imagine describing this place as a mere hotel. A hotel was where you found things like hard beds, small bathrooms, and a tiny closet to hang your hat. A hotel was desig
ned for people like her.
This? This place was designed for the gods. She’d been awestruck at the glass chandeliers and grand columns in the foyer. Amazed at the army of servants who raced to take their luggage, ushered them to their rooms, made sure they had everything they needed.
Even more, she’d been utterly astonished at the bedrooms.
“Aetos is generous to a fault.” One of his heavy-browed aunts nodded her head wisely. “It is good to be mere steps from the hospital, though. It was good of him to send couriers to our homes to collect what we required while staying here.”
There were murmurs of happy agreement.
“This place is pretty cool.” Rhea managed to appear faintly bored, yet her dancing gaze gave her away. “Except the flat-screen TV in my room only had thirty-five channels.”
Why would anyone want to look at TV when they could feast their eyes on their surroundings, Nat wondered. Anyone would surely rather admire the delicate gold filigree edging the antique armoire in her bedroom. Or gaze at the oil paintings of Athens, its glory populating every wall of this gigantic suite. Or savor the plump, plush sofa she’d eased into last night while waiting for the family to settle into their respective bedrooms.
So she could settle into hers.
Alone.
Had it been relief she’d felt when Zenos had growled his intent to stay at the hospital into her ear before striding out the hotel door?
Yes. Right. Relief.
Uncle Orion snorted, his dark mustache bouncing. “As if you had time to watch thirty-five different programs before you fell asleep last night.”
Nat sipped on the bitter coffee to hide her grin as Rhea managed to appear even more disdainful. “I had plenty of time to watch TV this morning.”
They’d all slept in late. She had to admit to falling into her soft bed like a zombie. After enduring a night of no sleep, the overseas flight, and the long wait for news of the surgery, she’d barely kept herself awake long enough to brush her teeth. She wasn’t completely sure her head had hit the pillow before she’d been fast asleep. The sleep had done her a world of good. She almost, almost felt cheerful. Almost, almost felt ready to take on the world and this family.